


5 Times Shiro Almost Gave Up And 1 Time He Didn't

by Jeiidaan



Category: Ao no Exorcist | Blue Exorcist
Genre: 5+1 Things, Gen, Parent-Child Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-24
Updated: 2016-01-24
Packaged: 2018-05-15 23:14:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5804080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jeiidaan/pseuds/Jeiidaan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It took a while for Shiro to become a dad, but he managed it in the end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	5 Times Shiro Almost Gave Up And 1 Time He Didn't

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TarballGZ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TarballGZ/gifts).



I.

_ “I can’t. Fuck the deal, Mephisto. I don’t fucking care. Just come and pick them up. I can’t do this anymore.” _

The call was immediately ended and all Mephisto could do for several seconds was sigh in disappointment. This wasn’t too much of a setback, to be quite honest. The convenience of having his little brothers being raised by a man under his thumb was simply that, a convenience. But transferring the twins over to a different, more willing guardian, was not that difficult a task. In fact, Mephisto could think of several in the moments it took for him to don his cape and hat and stroll to the door of his office, key in hand.

To think. After a little under a week, the famed paladin, Shiro Fujimoto, had been bested by two infants. 

Mephisto opened the door across from the old monastery that was Shiro’s home and saw the man standing outside the gates, the quick flashes of a clumsily handled lighter briefly illuminating his face. In those seconds, Mephisto could appreciate the stressed and desperate wrinkles that covered the man’s brow. 

(The aging of humans was always a fascinating subject and Shiro seemed to have gained several years over the past 6 days.)

The demon crossed the street and snatched the cigarette right from Shiro’s lips before another attempt to light it could be made. 

“You were doing so well. Please do not ruin it,” Mephisto sighed, bending the cigarette in half and tossing it over his shoulder. The glare Shiro gave him was delightful. “Well? Where are the children?”

“Shut up…” Shiro pocketed the lighter and snarled, leading the way into the monastery. Mephisto felt the brief tickle of the wards set up around the perimeter as he passed the invisible wall with ease. He tutted under his breath.

Past the pews and empty hallways, they arrived at Shiro’s room where the cribs were set up. But the moment the floorboards creaked outside the door, the sound of infant fussing leaked from the other side of the barrier. Shiro sighed heavily with the air of a man twenty years older than his age.

“Wait here,” he grunted.

“Why?” Mephisto furrowed his eyebrows, not wanting to spend too much time in the musty halls of the old monastery. 

“Just  _ wait. _ ” Shiro snapped before he opened the door, briefly exposing Mephisto to the full volume of two infants crying before the door was closed, muffling the sound again. He sighed, but, to his credit, did as he was told. 

The crying continued for several minutes accompanied by Shiro’s low and frustrated tone before the crying lowered and ceased. Mephisto continued to wait, wondering if the man was being sentimental after all and saying goodbye to infants who couldn’t understand his words.

Ten minutes passed.

Twenty minutes passed.

Mephisto curled his lip and pressed his handkerchief over his nose. As soon as he rehomed his little brothers, he would demand that Shiro clean the old building. Not willing to wait any longer, Mephisto opened the door.

But what he saw was far worse than the sentiments of saying good bye. Instead, Shiro was fast asleep, half laying on his bed with the two infant boys snoozing away on his chest. Mephisto stood at the threshold for a moment before he smirked and snapped his fingers. With a quiet  _ poof, _ Shiro and the children were fully on the bed and in the center with pillows on each side so as to prevent the babies from possibly rolling off and onto the floor. 

“My, my…” Mephisto purred under his handkerchief before turning around with a billow of his cape. “How low you have sunk, my friend…”

II.

Nagatomo sighed. It was the third time today he’d heard Shiro refer to Rin as “the demon.” He understood Shiro’s frustrations. After all, many of the priests, especially the ones whose rooms were closest to Shiro’s also lost many hours of sleep what with the new additions to the household waking up every two hours. Releasing frustration was something he needed to do but maybe calling one of the babies a demon was a step too far. Nagatomo rose from his desk and crossed the hallway into Shiro’s room where he was, as gently as an exorcist with no experience with infants could, rocking a wailing Yukio. In the crib, Rin was sobbing and screaming in equal volume. 

“Nagatomo…” Shiro cried with relief. “Thank God. Take him would you? I can’t handle this racket much longer…” He held out Yukio who screeched as though the world was crashing down on him. 

“Don’t you think I should take the one who has yet to get some attention?” Nagatomo frowned and moved over to the crib instead. He gathered Rin in his arms and bounced him gently.

“That little…” Shiro grumbled. “He was the one who started the whole thing. Fuckin kid started screaming his head off and scared the daylights out of Yukio.”

“Oh so he’s a kid now?” Nagatomo turned to him with a scolding tone he didn’t bother to hide. He was slightly satisfied when he saw Shiro’s cheeks color in embarrassment. “They’re both just babies, Fujimoto-san…” Nagatomo sighed and wiped the tears from the chubby cheeked baby. 

It took a while but eventually, the two priests sat at the edge of Shiro’s bed with snoozing children in their arms. 

“Sorry…” Shiro whispered. Nagatomo looked at him, ready to respond, but found that he was looking, not at him, but at Rin who had just finished nodding off. Shiro’s expression was tired and stressed but Nagatomo knew more than anyone that he was trying his best. 

A light pat on the knee was what Nagatomo offered and it seemed to be all that was needed.

III.

It hurt to breathe.

_ Maybe I’m not cut out for this after all… _ Shiro thought with a wheeze. Taking care of children was hard enough but one of them was barely human. He could feel his heartbeat through his chest and each pound seemed to push against his broken ribs. 

Hospitalized by a five-year-old. What would Mephisto think? He would definitely laugh, that was for sure. Shiro would have to keep this situation under wraps for as long as possible. Not only to avoid Mephisto’s laughter but any suspicion from the order. After all, no normal five-year-old should be able to snap his ribs with a punch, mid-tantrum or not.

Shiro’s hand hovered over his chest, wanting in some way to soothe the pain but knowing that if he touched it, it would only hurt worse. He’d just have to endure.

_ And maybe seriously reconsider… _ Shiro frowned.

“Papa!” The door opened and a whimpering pair of voices came with two small boys, eyes watery with tears. Nagatomo stood at the door, eyebrows knitted with worry as Rin and Yukio ran to Shiro’s bedside.

“Papa, are you okay?” Rin sniffed, cheeks still wet as Yukio gripped the bedsheets with tear-speckled glasses that were too big for his face.

Shiro let a natural smile spread across his face and placed a hand on Rin’s head before squeezing Yukio’s hand.

“Your papa is as fit as a fiddle. Don’t you worry!”

Relief blossomed on the boys’ expressions and the pain faded just a little.

IV.

It wasn’t the first time the thought crossed his mind. The thought of maybe those 12 years ago, killing those children would have been a mercy.

Shiro watched Yukio’s tense back as he climbed the stairs with a heavy gait and tired expression that showed more strain a boy his age should even comprehend. The exorcist’s coat was a bit too loose on his shoulders and had to be restrained around his waist with a fitting belt. 

Too small. Too young. But what other choice had there been?

Shiro pulled Yukio into a life of violence and hard choices with no right answers in order to remove him from a life of constant fear and terror at what was around the corner.

Hard choices with no right answers…

Shiro pinched the bridge of his nose, letting his glasses hang from his neck. He slumped into a pew and interlocked his fingers together. Shiro let his gaze wander to the blurred cross on the other side of the room and his brow furrowed before he decided that staring at the floor was much more productive this time around.

_ I should have killed them. _

The thought floated around his head insistently, making Shiro pay attention to it. 

_ I should have killed them. _

Shiro shook his head. The sharp sound of a slap cut through the air and Shiro shook out the stinging in his palm. His cheek was getting red already. He ignored it, put on his glasses, and headed to the kitchen for a drink. Sleep would be scarce that night.

V.

“Don’t give me that crap! Protection? You’re just trying to get rid of me! After all, I’m just some random kid. I’m not like Yukio and I’ve been nothing but a burden on you my whole life! You just don’t want to play the caring father anymore! Just admit it! Don’t you ever act like you’re my father again!”

His arm swung out before he could stop it and the sound immediately stopped the incensed yelling that came from Rin’s mouth. Shiro didn’t notice how heavy he was breathing until that moment.

“We don’t have time for these petty arguments… Just do as you’re told.” Shiro wondered if that cold voice was his. He watched as Rin’s face twisted from shock into a grudging pain.

“Fine…” he muttered.

Shiro’s heart was pounding. 

_ Am I? Is that what this has all been? A charade? An act? _

Shiro looked down at his stinging palm and grit his teeth. He looked towards Rin’s posture, how he grabbed the bag that he had hurriedly packed in order to shove Rin out the door, not thinking for a moment how he would feel.

_ I’m… the worst… _

The realization came with a sharp pain that shoved the breath right from his chest.

\+ I.

Hope was in the shape of a sharp metal pendant. Desperation was the tight grip that drove hesitation so far that Shiro didn’t even think twice.

He felt the pain. He felt his chest being pierced. He felt the screams of indignation from the demon controlling his body. The spiteful victory allowed him his final words.

“That boy is my son… And I’m taking him back…!”


End file.
